A Quote by P. C. Cast
Sylvia's dark eyes widened. "You are more than you appear to be" "Yes. I am a monster of Darkness, a beast," he agreed with her. Her lips tilted up. "Can a beast weep in sorrow? Does darkness have the capacity to feel loneliness? I think not.
Related Quotes
Beauty loved him more than anything, her Beast boy, but, secretly, sometimes, she wished he would have remained a Beast.
Daniel's face-- the way it had been bathed in violet light when he'd carried her home this morning-- appeared before her eyes. His gleaming golden hair. His tender, knowing eyes. The way one touch of his lips transported her far away from any darkness. For him, she'd suffer all of this, and more.
Yes.” She smiled, liking the word. “What I feel like right now—I’d compare it to waking from a dream and seeing the real world. It’s a beautiful place, but it also has darkness. If you try to eradicate that darkness, you also destroy the light.” Pain for the future of her people tightened her heart.
Being with Mary was different because...he wasn't the only one who wanted to make love to her. The beast wanted her, too. The beast wanted out so it could take her.
Persephone herself is but a voice
or a darkness invisible enfolded in the deeper dark
of the arms Plutonic, and pierced with the passion of dense gloom,
among the splendor of torches of darkness, shedding darkness on the
lost bride and her groom.
Does not a man physically tremble under the mere look of a wild beast or fellow-man that is stronger than himself? Does not a woman redden all over when she feels her lover's eyes on her? How then should one doubt the mysterious power of one individual over another?
Yes, yes," said the Beast, "my heart is good, but still I am a monster." Among mankind," says Beauty, "there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart.
A beast does not know that he is a beast, and the nearer a man gets to being a beast, the less he knows it.
Beast?" Jane murmured. "Then God make me a beast; for, man or beast, I am yours.
I always tell people that my creativity lies in the belly of the beast and that's exactly what it is. A lot of people think that 'dark' is a bad concept, but I think it's a beautiful thing because that's mostly where your best work comes from. You can say it's dark, but you splash so much colour on it from what's inside you. Everybody always puts negative connotations on the idea of darkness.
Mia Maz glanced aside in concern at his muffled snort. "Are you all right?" "Yes. Sorry," he whispered. "I'm just having an attack of limericks." Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip; only her deepening dimple betrayed her. "Shhh," she said, with feeling.
She was darkness and he was darkness and there had never been anything before this time, only darkness and his lips upon her. She tried to speak and his mouth was over hers again. Suddenly she had a wild thrill such as she had never known; joy, fear, madness, excitement, surrender to arms that were too strong, lips too bruising, fate that moved too fast.
Nay, but Jack, such eyes! such eyes! so innocently wild! so bashfully irresolute! Not a glance but speaks and kindles some thought of love! Then, Jack, her cheeks! her cheeks, Jack! so deeply blushing at the insinuations of her tell-tale eyes! Then, Jack, her lips! O, Jack, lips smiling at their own discretion! and, if not smiling, more sweetly pouting - more lovely in sullenness! Then, Jack, her neck! O, Jack, Jack!
“Simon,” she whispered, vaguely surprised that she had just used his first name, for she had never used it even in the privacy of her thoughts. Moistening her dry lips, she tried once more, and to her astonishment, she did it again. “Simon…” “Yes?” A new tension had entered his long, hard body, and at the same time, his hand moved over the shape of her skull in the softest caress possible. “Please… take me to my room.” Hunt tilted her head back gently and regarded her with a sudden faint smile playing on his lips. “Sweetheart, I would take you to Timbuktu if you asked.“
And the light by which she had read the book filled with troubles, falsehoods, sorrow, and evil, flared up more brightly than ever before, lighted up for her all that had been in darkness, flickered, began to grow dim, and was quenched forever.
On just a personal level, since I was little, I've loved fairytales, especially this one, because it is about what goes into making a beast a beast. Do you start as a beast? Do you turn into a beast because of the way that people treat you? I think it's something that is really universal and hit a chord with me when I was little, and so, hopefully we can explore some of that.
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